Sir Maurice turns at once to the butler.
"See that breakfast is sent up to Lady Rylton," says he calmly.
A faint colour rises to Tita's forehead. She goes straight to the door. Randal Gower, who is still at the sideboard, hurries to open it for her.
"There's a regular ta-ra-ra waiting for you," says he, "in the near bimeby."
Tita gives him an indignant glance as she goes by, which that youth accepts with a beaming smile.
Tita has hardly been in her room twenty minutes, has hardly, indeed, had time to change her clothes, when Margaret knocks at the door.
"May I come in?" asks she.
"Oh! come in. Come in!" cries Tita, who has just dismissed her maid. She runs to Margaret and kisses her on both cheeks. "Good-morning," says she. And then saucily, "You have come to read me a lecture?"
"No. No, indeed," replies Margaret earnestly. She _had _perhaps, but the sight of the child's small, pretty, entreating face has done away with everything condemnatory that was in her mind. Still, there is such a thing as a word in season. "But, Tita dearest," says she, "is it wise, the way you are going on?"
"Ah! I knew I should not escape," says Tita whimsically.